


Please wait by the line

by prussium



Series: Pinned to the Pine (secret affair AU) [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Alfred, Business Trip, Drinking, Extramarital Affairs, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 21:42:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5065369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prussium/pseuds/prussium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Alfred F. Jones is already married when he meets the love of his life. (Prequel to 'Second’s not the same').</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please wait by the line

**Author's Note:**

> I got some requests for my super short secret affair AU ‘Second’s not the same’, so I considered writing a prequel about how Arthur and Alfred met. I couldn’t resist writing about somebody’s first time. =u= It’s in Alfred’s perspective, by the way!  
> The title’s from ‘Pusher’ by alt-J (basically, I just pick random songs from my playlist when I’m out of ideas :P).

_If you’re willing to wait for the love of your life_

_Please wait by the line…_

 

The shio ramen is scrumptious. Alfred savors the perfect mix of lard and salt that melts in his mouth, and reminisces the last time he went to a Japanese restaurant with his friend Kiku. From the counter, he watches the patrons gesturing animatedly as they speak in their native tongue. He’ll never suspect finding little gems like these in London if not for his newfound friend, Mr. Arthur Kirkland.  

“How do you like London so far?” Mr. Kirkland asks, sipping his soup.

Alfred’s face lights up. “I love it!”  

“When did you get here, by the way?” 

Alfred takes his time to recall his flight. It seems so long ago with everything that happened during the convention. “Two days ago, I think?”

“I see. Have you been here before?” 

“A couple of times, when I was a kid. I think I was twelve when I last came here, so many things have changed since then,” he says. “How about you? Are you from here?”  

“No, I’m actually from Manchester,” says Mr. Kirkland. “But my parents own a house in Richmond, which isn’t very far from here.”

Funny how things went. They first chatted a few hours ago, during break, when Arthur lent him his lighter. And now they’re having dinner, only the two of them. Oddly enough, it makes Alfred feel like he’s already part of Mr. Kirkland’s inner circle.

“How do you feel about the convention, Mr. Kirkland?” asks Alfred. He says his name tentatively, the awkwardness of the first-or-last-name basis getting into him. He believes it safe to address professional acquaintances by their last name. It’s a huge improvement from his university days, really, when everyone was a ‘dude’.

Mr. Kirkland is barely older than Alfred, but he radiates so much power and authority. Perhaps it’s his posh tone or his regal stature, but no matter what it is, it makes everyone around him pay attention and respect.  

“Oh please, call me Arthur,” he says, fiddling with his glass.

Alfred grins sheepishly. For the tenth time, he gazes at Arthur’s left hand – the ring finger is empty – as if daring it to flash a golden wedding band.

Arthur’s accent is music to his ears, so he exhausts his mental list of conversational topics to keep him talking, and to know him better. The topic shifts from professional to personal, like getting to know a friend from work. Apparently, both of them get tired of people surrounding them all the time, and so, they isolate themselves from time to time in order to breathe. They continue volleying questions until they find more things and in common: they both considered joining the military when they were younger; they know someone called Francis; their guilty pleasures include McDonald’s and overpriced drinks (coffee for Alfred and tea for Arthur); and they hate cycling.

“Oh, you’re like the British version of me!” says Alfred. “This is crazy!”

There’s something about Arthur’s default resting face. He’s constantly pensive, not giving away his inner emotions. He’s certainly not the Mr. Sunshine type like Alfred is, so seeing him smile makes the American’s heart clench.

After dinner, Arthur leads him to his favorite pub. Most of the patrons are corporate people dressed in suits just like them, and some cunning uni kids who are eagerly establishing connections with the outside world.

Arthur asks the bar tender for frothy pints of beer to chase their personal talk.

“I’m quite impressed with your work, Alfred,” he says, slurping his beer. “Achieving your three-year target in less than one is a _massive_ step.”

“Oh, I can’t take all the credit. I’ve had some help from my friends,” Alfred replies and scratches the back of his head.

“It’s amazing how people build companies in such a short span of time these days. You people start from scratch to see it flourish, it’s astounding,” says Arthur. “When I inherited the family business, there was hardly any work to be done but keep it afloat.”

“Family businesses are no different from the royal crown – an institution passed from generation to generation.”

“Indeed, indeed. But since I’m the youngest, I had to fight for it like a birthright.”   

“You must have worked morning, noon, and night to get where you are now.”

Arthur nods grimly. “Morning, noon, and night. But I won’t have it any other way.”

Alfred studies the half-finished drink in his hand. “I’m sure your partner’s very lucky to have someone as hardworking as you.”

“That’s not really my area.” Arthur flashes another heart-clenching smile. “I’m married to my career, so to speak.”

“Ah, so you’re that type then,” Alfred replies and displays the ring on his left hand. “I got married last year.”

“Congratulations. High school sweetheart?”

“She is. How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess. Tell me about her.”

One pint turns to two, and two turns to three. In an attempt to match Arthur’s alcohol tolerance, Alfred lets himself loose. Before he knows it, he’s laughing like he’s being tickled. He hasn’t laughed this hard in a long time, and after another pint, his emotions do a 180-degree turn.  

“Hey, Arthur?” He says, wiping the happy tears on the edge of his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever feel so small, like you don’t matter to the world?” He asks. “Like when I was in college, I felt so indestructible as though I c’take over the world and now I’m out here in the ‘real world’, I jus’ feel so small an’ insignificant. Y’know what I’m sayin’?”    

Arthur has a way of making people feel comfortable in his company, which allows Alfred to feel like he’s found an instant best friend, and that he’ll keep whatever he confides in him no matter how much he spills his guts. What he finds more incredible is the fact that Arthur isn’t showing signs of intoxication. With a clear mind, he nods in agreement and entertains Alfred’s ideas like they’re the key to the improvement of society. How does he do it? Alfred drinks, spills his deep-seated issues, and drinks until…

“Oh, look at me, I’m such a mess!” He blurts out, hiding his face behind his hands. His shiny wedding band is cold against his cheek.

He’s lost track of time. When did his brain go on autopilot? Now, he can’t hold back the waterworks. He’s always been an emotional drunk.

Another wave of embarrassment slaps him as Arthur rubs circles on his back. He’s handling the situation perfectly, which comforts Alfred a little. “It’s alright, Alfred,” he says. “There, there.”

He sobs even more, his face crumpling and his shoulders trembling. They’re turning more heads, which slightly bothers Arthur. “Hey, I’m driving you back to your hotel. Is that okay?” He asks. “Where are you staying?”

Alfred takes slow, deep breaths. He starts feeling nauseous when he removes his hands from his face. “I think I need the bathr’m firs’.”

And in the bathroom, he pukes, hugging the toilet as if his life depends on it. Arthur must feel like he’s babysitting a high school student, holding Alfred’s hair so it won’t stray to his face and assuring him everything’s going to be alright…

===

Alfred feels weird sitting on the wrong side of the road. He’s supposed to be taking the wheel on this side, but Arthur’s got it, driving on his right. His fleeting thoughts zoom with the city lights outside the window, turning his vision into a kaleidoscope. They say nothing until they get inside Alfred’s hotel room.

“I’m really sorry about that.” Alfred apologizes for the fifth time. He steps out of the bathroom and wipes the toothpaste foam from his face.

“Don’t worry about it. If it makes you feel better,” says Arthur, “I used to have drinking problems that got worse in time. I lost my friends because they grew tired of hauling my sorry ass home.”

Alfred fabricates a smile. It hurts lifting the corners of his mouth. “I think I like you.”

Arthur laughs softly. Oh, he’ll never get tired hearing that sound. “I think you’re a nice man as well, Alfred.”

“No, Arthur,” Alfred says, walking closer to him. He puts a hand on his chest. “I think I _like_ you.”

He’s quite surprised his words don’t slur anymore. He also feels less hazy as sweat seeps out of his pores – it’s a bit hot, actually. Maybe it’s the anticipation of rejection.

Alfred studies those bright green eyes. Even in the dim light, he knows that look: lonely and seeking. He’s seen them in the mirror for years. Thinking it’s now or never, he makes the move: he grabs Arthur’s arms and presses their lips together. He tastes of beer and ramen noodles and expensive cigarettes – Alfred can’t get enough of him. Arthur responds as he comes back to his senses, gripping Alfred’s hips to pull him closer.

Alfred’s hands are all awkward and clumsy, his kisses all sloppy with his teeth and tongue. This is something new to him. He’s only ever kissed women, but they never made him feel the electric sparks that make his breath catch and his groin tighten. Alfred lowers his hands from the back of Arthur’s neck to his hips, quite conscious about his inexperience. Arthur’s gestures reassure him, telling him not to worry, he’ll take care of it, leaving lingering kisses to where it feels the best for him. His heart hammers inside his ribcage, saying _Arthur, Arthur, Arthur._

“Is this alright?” Arthur asks as they fall to the edge of the bed.

Alfred knots his fingers around Arthur’s messy hair, and says breathlessly, “Yes. Very alright.”

Their touches are hesitant but wanting, as if the other will vanish in the absence of physical contact. Alfred wraps his legs around Arthur’s waist and pulls away as the need for oxygen arises. Arthur’s lips are glossed over and swollen – the thought that he’s responsible for them turns him on. His hands fist into the front of Arthur’s shirt as he’s filled with the desire to cling tighter against him.

With every touch and every kiss, he acquaints his senses with Arthur’s body. He’s never been in bed with men, and the idea of knowing the differences between the male and the female bodies gives him a new sense of arousal. The ring on his left hand sends flashes of guilt, but he brushes the ugly thoughts aside because he’s never felt so good and so right, like this is how it should be.

Arthur’s face encourages him further as Alfred sees unrestrained lust and arousal written all over it. Blood floods in every corner of his body, rushing between his trembling legs. Alfred pins Arthur down in the middle of the bed, while Arthur tucks a leg between his thighs, both of them trying to find out how they fit together.

Arthur traces the well-built arms under his dress shirt. Alfred’s build is broader, molded by years of football practice.  Meanwhile, Arthur has a slim, but muscled figure, carrying a masculine grace akin to a ballet dancer. He’s nothing like the smaller, curvy, feminine bodies Alfred is familiar with, but the firm manhood poking his thigh and those tight muscles fill him with the same satisfaction.

“Can I touch you?” Alfred asks. Tentatively, he lowers his fingers from Arthur’s hip to the bulge in his slacks.  

Arthur’s cheeks darken under the shadows. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “If you want.”

Alfred makes no effort in hiding his excitement. He quickly unbuckles the belt and tugs him out, curling his fingers around the stiff cock. He pulls the pants and the underwear down his ankles with impatience. While one hand trails along Arthur’s hip, the other slips under his shirt, stroking each nipple. Then, they go south, trailing between the thighs, lifting the shaft and teasing the balls. Alfred watches with delight as Arthur’s cock grows harder in his hands.

Arthur studies him quietly as he figures his inexperience. He senses Alfred has only touched himself from how his hands wander around his groin like exploring a new territory. Taking pleasure in Arthur’s little sighs and sharp breaths, Alfred leans in for a kiss and strokes him harder.

Arthur teases his zipper and touches the tent in Alfred’s pants, feeling it twitch. “I want to touch you, too.”

For a second, Alfred stops and lets awkwardness show in his face. “O-Okay.”

Instead of unzipping his pants, Arthur unbuttons his shirt. Once he realizes what Arthur is doing, Alfred does the same to the other man and they haphazardly toss away the pieces of precious clothing, never mind where they land. They rub together, rough and raw without lubrication. Alfred’s lips trail from Arthur’s mouth to the crook of his neck, and down to his shoulder blades. Feeling tense and sensitive, Alfred shivers once Arthur touches his length.

Arthur flips him onto his back. “Spread your legs.”

The roughness in his voice makes Alfred eager to comply, and he lets Arthur slide his hands along the inside of his thighs, until they close around his cock. Arthur gives it a firm squeeze and teases it with an upstroke. Alfred’s face glows red as he responds to Arthur’s slightest touch. Above him, Arthur reads his expressions silently, moving his hands according to Alfred’s reaction.  He smirks when Alfred whines as he withdraws, and when he kicks his legs after quickening the pace.

Alfred wraps his arms around his shoulders and fills Arthur’s neck with bruising kisses. His mind spins out of control with the thought of being alone with Arthur like this: the heat of his skin pressed against him, his hands between Alfred’s thighs, and his heart racing inside his chest.

He struggles keeping his legs wide open as his muscles tense and shiver with spasm.

“Shit, Arthur, I—” He blurts out, bucking his hips. “I-I can’t—”   

The demand of his lower half overrides his ability to speak with coherence. He feels shame for not lasting long enough.

Arthur keeps pumping harder and faster, and he leans over to press light kisses on his nose, forehead, and eyelids. He whispers, “Go on, it’s alright.”

Alfred breathes heavily and with a loud moan, he comes. Arthur tightens his grip to feel every pulse of his orgasm. He lies on his back to catch his breath, a wide grin across his face. The entire experience is nothing he’s ever felt before. Absolutely brilliant.

“Arthur… that felt brilliant,” he says, panting, “Fantastic!”

He lifts his head to find Arthur, who looks pleased with the spectacle and Alfred’s remark. Then, he realizes he left him unfinished, his member still erect and dripping with white liquid.

Alfred tugs at it and thumbs the foreskin. “I want you inside me.”

“Are you sure?” Arthur asks with a skeptical look.

“Yes,” he croaks, “Please, Arthur.”

His desperate tone is enough to make Arthur oblige, who retrieves a packet of condom and a bottle of lube from his discarded clothes. Their lips and hands wander across each other’s skin until Alfred reaches full hardness again. He imagines how it feels to take it from behind, how Arthur will prepare him to accept the intrusion of his manhood, and a wave of excitement floods him again.

“I’ve never been with a man before.”

Arthur watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He says, “Let’s take it slow, then.” 

A cold and slicked finger slips inside his entrance, making him hiss. He gives Arthur an encouraging nod as he lifts his leg on Arthur’s shoulder to give more room. When Arthur hits a certain spot with his two fingers, he can’t help but twitch. 

“Ooh, there it is,” he says, hit by the sharp sensation. He breathes sharply and rolls his hips while Arthur crooks his fingers to massage the spot. “Ahh, that’s it. Yes, you got it.”

Arthur keeps prodding, seemingly delighted to hear the arousing noises from Alfred’s mouth, until the other man begs to get inside him. 

When they’re both ready, Arthur straddles his hips. Before pushing inside Alfred, he says, “Tell me if it hurts.”

Alfred nods and his back arches as Arthur’s member slides inside him slowly. “Oh!”

“Are you alright?”

He inhales. “Oh, God, you feel wonderful…” He blinks back the wetness in his eyes. “God, yes please. Deeper, deeper.”

As Arthur sinks another inch, he locks his eyes into those green ones, relishing his moonlit face. He looks perfect – he’ll give anything to see this face every day. He moves against Arthur’s body, letting out breathless, pleading moans.

He’s so unused to taking, always giving. He hasn’t considered being with a man until tonight, and he casts away all his guilt for this moment. Arthur thrusts deeper, making him throw his head back to the pillows and dig his fingers into his skin, as if saying he’ll never let him go.

Alfred gets lost in the forest of his mind. He finally understands why people feel eternity as they become one with another person, and why they worship them with all their heart and soul. If this is wrong, why does he feel so good?

They move together at a faster pace. As Arthur keeps hitting the spot that elicits the loudest groans, Alfred peppers kisses along his angular jaw and drags his nails across his back to leave marks. Arthur senses the incoming orgasm as his body stiffens.

“Arthur, fuck… ah…”

Arthur reaches in and sucks at his bottom lip. His breath is ticklish against Alfred’s ear as he whispers, “Come for me again, Alfred. Go on.” He cards the hair from his sweaty forehead and kisses his mouth.

Alfred thrusts his hips into the air and shouts like something have broken in him. In a matter of seconds, Arthur laces their fingers together, and comes, his cries sending shivers down Alfred’s spine. He rests his head on Alfred’s chest, and they exchange a hum of satisfaction.

They listen to their rapid breathing through the mess of hair, sweat, and cum. They stay that way, hands intertwined while waiting until their bodies cool. Arthur gently pulls out and disposes the condom. He lies next to Alfred who reaches for him, drowning in Arthur’s scent – his new favorite scent – and wishes he doesn’t have to go back to America soon.

“My lovely,” says Arthur, stroking the outline of his face.

Drowning in sleepiness, Alfred looks at Arthur whose hair seems like choppy threads of gold, backlit by the moonlight; he runs his fingers through the soft strands.  

“Have you seen the sights already?” Arthur brushes his fingertips across Alfred’s shoulder blades. “I can show you around tomorrow.”

“I already did, actually. London is a very beautiful city,” Alfred replies, “but I believe the view’s better with you in it.”

Arthur rolls his eyes as his lips tug at the corners. He doesn’t say a word after kissing Alfred’s cheek and curling against his back.

Alfred stays awake longer. Wrapping Arthur’s arm around his waist, he imagines them curled up together the next morning. Arthur, with his adorable bed hair and the pillow marks in his face, lazily greets him _good morning_. His heart aches as he wishes to see that sight every day. He sighs.

He lets Arthur’s breathing lull him to sleep.

===

Three months later, Alfred flies to Manchester with a week’s worth of luggage and a racing heart. They’ve kept in touch online, sometimes through phone calls, but he can’t put himself at ease with the thought of seeing Arthur again.

What if Arthur’s already with someone else? What if he was just a pity sex? What if Arthur only slept with him because he saw how lonely Alfred was that night? How stupid can you be to fall in love after spending one night with someone?

Yes, it may seem stupid especially when you’re looking at it from the outside, but to Alfred, everything makes perfect sense. This is more than just a one-night stand – the constant communication and the long flights across the Atlantic are enough to prove what’s beyond it.

Alfred locks himself in the airport bathroom and gathers the courage to draft his message. He hits ‘send’ before he can give it a second thought.

_I’m back! Want to have dinner? AFJ._

The cubicle offers little comfort as Alfred endures the harrowing wait. He loosens his tie and cradles his head in his hands to concentrate on his breathing. The reply comes five minutes later.

_Welcome back. I thought you’d never ask. Shall I make a recommendation?_

He scoots out of the cubicle with a sigh of relief. The reflection in the mirror smiles back at him.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have a lot of ‘cleaning up’ to do here (I was half-asleep while writing and editing and English is my second language, etc., etc.), and I’m so sorry, but I wanted it to be done and over with before I could forget! Just hit the comment box if you wanna ask something or if you wanna tell me what you think. ^_^”  
> I didn’t have big plans for this AU, honestly. I just wanted to write a secret affair story, so I guess it will remain as such until I consider developing the plot. Thanks for reading!
> 
> EDIT: I did consider writing a sequel! It's called 'Pool length under water', and it's the 3rd part of this series. Go check it out!


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